Quick Draw Ride
by i-effed-it-all-up
Summary: In a near apocalyptic world, some people have to learn survival instincts. Others go in knowing how to survive. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. Only rated M for language. My first ever chapter story, let's see how this goes.
1. Prologue

**Summary: AU. No wings. In the near future, America is a place of destruction, where the law of the land is guns and power. Maximum "Quick Draw" Ride has the guns and the power. She's well known in the city she lives in, and feared as well. This is the life she's known since before the world had gone to hell, when she was just a kid. Fang is the leader of a crew of kids who all carry guns and steal to survive, though before the world was a land of destruction, he'd known a pleasant childhood. So what kinda shit goes down when these rogue teens meet? You can only read to find out.**

**Rated M 'cause I'm swear-happy and I'm afraid a T rating isn't strong enough.**

"Hey, bitch, get down here and finish what you started!"

Maximum "Quick-Draw" Ride just smirked as she stood on a bridge 50-something feet above an empty road. Her hands twitched at her sides, but she forced them to stay there. _Not yet, _she told herself, _wait for the stupid fuck to drop his guard._

"What the hell ya doin' up there? I'mma shoot if ya don't get yer pretty little ass down here so we can tango!" The dude was big, sure, but he posed no threat to Max. She was a damn good shot, and she was fast, too. Everyone was afraid of her. Anyone who wasn't was just plain stupid.

"Man," called Max nonchalantly, gripping the railing with two hands and leaning forward slightly, "you sure can talk the talk, can't ya, big guy? But the real question is, can you own up to that shit you're talkin'? I don't think so. You just look like a big cowardly dumbass to me, ya know that? Shoutin' all these big words but you're not gonna come the fuck up here and get me, are ya?"

Max knew these guys too well, swinging their shiny toys around and talking big to make themselves feel strong. Because in this country, having a gun supposedly meant you had power – but Max didn't necessarily agree with that. Just having the guns wasn't gonna get the job done – you had to have the balls and the skill to use them.

Max just so happened to have grown herself a pair of balls since this place had all gone to hell.

She also happened to know how to mess with these guys; challenge the power they held onto so dearly to make them ballistic. And when that happened they usually did something stupid.

The man shouted "Fuck you!" before running closer to the bridge and ducking behind a large blue cargo container. Max grinned wickedly as he began to shoot at her; no regular garden variety idiot with a gun could touch _her. _Who was this guy kidding, anyway?

Max easily dodged the man's bullets; actually, she barely had to move. This guy was an awful shot, his bullets bouncing off the railing in front of her while making small pinging noises. Max sighed and palmed her face.

"You're a real amateur, aren't ya?" she sneered, clearly amused.

"Who the hell are you callin' an amateur? I'll have you know I'm one of the best-"

In an instant Max had a gun in each hand. The prick hadn't happened to notice the symbol on the container – but Max did. She had an eye for detail. In this day and age you couldn't trust _anything _to protect you, not even a brick wall.

In a matter of seconds Max's shots rang out, and the big blue containers before her opponent lit up, engulfing him in an explosive, fiery tomb.

Poor idiot never knew what hit him.

"And that," Max said as she holstered her guns dramatically, old-Western style, "is why they call me Quick-Draw. Ya douche."


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Max hopped off the bridge and landed on the uneven concrete with super-human grace. She kicked at the remains of her attacker's gun and smirked slightly. Surely her effortless victory was reason enough to celebrate. A drink at ol' Ari's place was clearly in order.

Ari's was as run down as any other building around, but it had the best rum to boot. Ari was a bit of a sexist bastard, but Max could usually put him in his place any time he tried something on her. The two guns probably convinced him most.

"Yo, Ari," Max said in her usual "no-funny-business" voice, "lemme get some of your Amber rum, all right?"

Ari sighed, "Sorry, Max, we're all out."

"You're kiddin' me," Max groaned. Ari's rum was the best. She sighed. "All right, lemme get some whiskey."

"Sure thing," he said, and he winked at her. Max glared. He grinned and ducked behind the counter to retrieve her drink. When he resurfaced, he handed Max the entire bottle rather than a shot. He knew her too well.

"So who'd you take out this time, ol' Quick-Draw?" asked Ari, grinning madly as he awaited the epic story that was sure to come. Max just shrugged and took a long draw from the bottle, something small and smile-like tugging at her lips.

"Just some dumbass who thought he was hot shit. No big deal."

"That's lame," said Ari, disappointed.

"Yea, except I blew him up."

"Oh, fuck yea!" shouted Ari, ever the sadist, "tell me about that!"

As Max told the tale of her victory, someone near the back of the place was watching her with fascination. He took her in; her short brown hair, the leather vest overtop a muscle shirt that hung loose over her flat stomach, the cargo shorts with pockets full of magazines, and the holster around her waist.

Two girls invited Max to sit at their table to recount her story to them. She slung an arm over each girls' shoulders, and held a gun in one hand, her whiskey in the other. She looked…. Well, pretty badass, he had to say.

Ari chose that moment to slide out from behind the bar and give Max's ass a hearty slap; in an instant the cheery air was gone, replaced by something angry and intense that made everyone in the vicinity turn to look.

In seconds flat Max had shoved the bottle into a girl's hand and had Ari against a wall, one gun's muzzle in his chest while the other pressed its cold tongue to his temple. If you'd blinked you would've missed it.

"Fuck _off,_" Max snarled, and when Ari just grinned and said "I like 'em feisty," she whipped around and fired a shot. The bottle in the girl's hand exploded, causing her to shriek and draw her hand to her chest in surprise. Perfectly good whiskey spilled to the floor, and Max fought off her disappointment.

"Point taken," said Ari in awe. Max released him and snarled "I certainly fucking hope so."

A single pair of hands applauded from the back of the room. Rather than acting out a dramatic scene where everyone in the room stayed silent and turned to look, the patrons of Ari's went back to cradling their drinks and talking loudly to one another.

Max, however, was curious, and so she turned, face smooth as stone, and faced two boys.

The boy who was applauding seemed to blend into the shadows of Ari's dusty pub; the cheap owner refused to pay for lights of any kind. Nobody minded much; one could get away with much more in the overlooked, shaded corners of a place.

His hair was dark and flopped carelessly over flat-looking black eyes in jagged strokes. The skin that covered him was of an olive shade, and so smooth that Max longed to reach out and stroke it. However, she had too much self-control for that.

The dark boy's muscles seemed to pop from his shirt, and he looked like he could take anyone out with his bare hands, he was that fucking huge. Max appraised him, trying to mask her awe.

The other boy was basically the opposite of the first. With shaggy blonde hair and pale eyes and skin, he was the other boy's counterpart entirely. His tall, lean body fit comfortably in his fitted clothing. His light blue eyes gazed just past Max's left shoulder.

The dust of the outside world stuck to their hair and skin, showing they were well traveled. Their clothes were dirty, and Max could make out the bulges of guns in their pockets.

Unless, of course, they were just happy to see her.

"Quick-Draw Ride, am I right?" the dark boy said, smirking. "Not hard to guess. You're pretty fuckin' badass, you know?"

"Thanks," said Max in an obviously bored tone. The boy's expression didn't change from that of complete calmness. He tilted his head. "I can see how you earned the name," he said.

"Well yea, they don't just call me that for fuckin' nothin'," Max said, getting irritated. "Get to the point all ready, I'm a busy lady. I got shit to do. C'mon, chop chop."

Something like anger flashed in the boy's eyes, but in an instant it was gone. "My name's Fang," he said, "and this is Iggy-" a motion towards the blonde boy- "and we've got a proposition for you."

"Yea? Well what the fuck is it?"

"We want you to join our crew."


End file.
